"So, how was it?"
"The meeting?"
"No, the soup." Edith's fingers drummed impatiently on the table. "Of course, the meeting, Sir Anthony. What did they say? Did they believe you?"
"Well, they were rather surprised," Sir Anthony said, languidly finishing the last bite on his plate. Around them, fifty more people were happy finishing their meals, unaware of the torture Edith was undergoing.
"Anthony," Edith glowered. She had been waiting a whole month for this interview, and two hours at this restaurant while he met with The Times. Could he not show her some mercy? Clearly the man was not as gentle and kind as he pretended to be.
"I nearly bungled the whole thing as soon as I walked in," Sir Anthony said at last. "The secretary asked for my name, and, after forty some years of giving it, I told her Strallan. Then the poor dear couldn't find it on her appointment schedule."
"But then you sorted it?" Edith half asked and half demanded, her fingers still beating impatiently on the table by her nearly untouched plate.
"Yes, I saw the name Crow in her books and pointed it out discreetly so no one else in the room could hear. She snapped up quick and led me to the office of Mr. George Dawson, the chief editor, personally. I felt like quite the celebrity."
"What did Mr. Dawson say?"
"He questioned if I was Crow, and, when I said I was, he began asking me a number of questions to verify that. What had he written in his last letter? What were the terms of our deal? That sort."
"I assume you answered them all correctly?"
"Naturally. I tried to memorize everything you gave me before the meeting," Sir Anthony said, taking another sip from his glass. "You know, I might not look it, but I'm quite good at all this cloak and dagger business. It brings me back to my time at war."
"You certainly seem better at it than me," Edith sighed. It was true. Currently, their usual attitudes were flipped. Sir Anthony was happily, confidently talking of his mission while Edith herself felt nothing but anxious and out of place in the restaurant filled with the buzz of casual conversation.
Edith would have much rather had this whole talk have occurred with actual cloaks. Preferably in the dark of night in some hidden corner where no one could hear or see them. But Sir Anthony was the expert at this, and said something about being more inconspicuous out in the open much to Edith's own shagrin.
"You will get better at it with time, my dear," Sir Anthony assured her with an easy smile. A waiter came up to refill their glasses before disappearing once again. "Now, where was I?"
"Mr. Dawson wanted to verify your identity," Edith said impatiently.
"Ah, yes! After all the basic questions, he seemed more convinced I was who I said. He asked why I wrote under a false name and if I wanted to go public with my identity. I refused, of course, and that began a back and forth about the how's and why's and what my goals were with this whole Crow business."
"Did you-"
"I stuck as close to the truth as I could. I used your words and reasoning where I could, and the rest I explained away as not wanting to damage my reputation. He seemed to buy it, and brought out a new contract."
"What did it say? Did he demand you sign it then and there?"
"Well, yes, but I think you will be pleased. I made sure to sign it as Sir Anthony Strallan FOR Edward Crow rather than as just myself, and the terms were rather favorable-"
"Anthony. Please just tell me."
"Five pounds per article, and one article published weekly. They will run the two articles you sent me with in these last two weeks of September."
Edith's jaw dropped. She couldn't stop it no matter how unladylike she knew it was. Five pounds per article? Twenty per month!? That was over double what she was making before. It was what she received as a year's worth of pin money! It was enough that she could support herself comfortably without her family!
"I-I thought you would be pleased," Sir Anthony said, his confidence giving way to nerves at her silence. "I can find a way to renegotiate if it's too much to do? Or isn't enough?"
Edith burst into slightly hysterical but wonderfully relieved laughter. She didn't even care about the looks she received from the other patrons. She didn't care about much except that she could write again.
"I assure you, Sir Anthony," Edith giggled, feeling slightly lightheaded from her laughter. "I am anything but displeased. Oh, the difference a male face makes in business."
"So you are pleased?" Sir Anthony asked nervously, distractedly nodding to the waiter who placed the bill for their luncheon before him.
"Pleased? I'm giddy. If I was any more pleased I would be indecent." Edith reached forward, still smiling, and snatched the bill from the table.
"Lady Edith-"
"Edith, please," she corrected, picking the appropriate currency from her purse.
"It's not proper for a lady to pay."
"Oh hush, none of that. I'm the one who asked you here after you did such a wonderful thing for me."
"It was only a meeting. I can pay."
"So can I. I can afford it now, as you know."
"Edith-"
"It's done," Edith said, giving the bill and payment to a passing waiter. "Think of it as a thank you for all you have done for me. Even then, it hardly scratches the surface of how thankful I am."
"Th-there is no need. I enjoyed it. It's been a long time since I've been able to come to the rescue of a beautiful young lady."
"And I thank you for it. You played your part of my knight in shining armor quite well, Anthony," Edith smiled. A soft pink blush rose in the older gentleman's cheeks.
"I-I am glad you are pleased."
"More than. They didn't ask you for anything else did they? A follow up meeting or more paperwork?"
"No, no. I told them about my trip abroad next month, and they understand I will be unavailable to meet in person. Unless it's of vital importance, of course."
"I could hardly ask that of you."
"I want to. It's been… fun. I feel younger than I have in a decade," Sir Anthony admitted. "I haven't felt this way since, well, since my Maud. You remind me of her, you know."
"Do I?" Edith asked. She didn't know much about the late Lady Maud Strallan except that she was a good woman whose death devastated her community.
"Not so much in personality, but, in spirit, you are much the same," Sir Anthony said, his light blue eyes taking on a glassy appearance. "It's something I always admired in her, even when others couldn't see it. You have it too."
"I'm honored you think so," Edith said gently. "Do you think she would have approved of this? Playing spy with the newspapers and traveling abroad?"
"She would have loved it. She always wanted us to have more adventures… I just hate that I am having them now when she can't see it and there is no longer anyone to share them with."
"I wouldn't say that. I'm here aren't I? After all, neither of us could have done this alone."
"No, I don't suppose we could have," Sir Anthony smiled softly. For a moment the pair lingered in the comfortable silence. The restaurant buzzed around them as patrons came and left. Edith sat and enjoyed watching the people fly about, and Sir Anthony seemed content to watch her as she did so.
"Goodness, is that really the time?" Edith gasped, having just caught sight of a clock. "I have to be off. Thank you again for your help. You will write to me when you're gone, won't you?"
"O-of course," Sir Anthony said, standing with her as she got up to leave. "Nothing would give me more pleasure."
"I will hold you to that," Edith nodded seriously. "Be safe during your travels, and have fun. I fear we will have little chance for it soon enough if my predictions are true. Goodbye for now, Anthony."
"Goodbye, Edith."
The giddy high of their success stayed with Edith for a good while even after she left Sir Anthony. It stayed with her through tea with Aunt Rosamund, despite her suspicious looks and pointed questions. Bless her aunt's constant requests for food. It gave Edith enough reason to come to London for a day to see her without her family asking too many questions.
The sense of security and joy continued on through the train ride home and the following couple of weeks at Downton Abbey. Even as the bright summer days turned to the damp chill of autumn, Edith couldn't help but feel her life was changing for the better. She had her career back, her way to change the world, and she couldn't be more grateful.
"Young love," Cora smiled, and the house agreed. Edith didn't have the heart to tell them that her blinding smile over breakfast had nothing to do with any sweet sayings in Evelyn's latest letter, but rather the new Crow article on European conflicts…. Well, perhaps the letter had something to do with it.
Evelyn's letters had been sparse but consistent in the month and a half he had spent at Branksome. The letters continued their usual conversations, but now they were sprinkled with endearments, future plans, and proclamations of love and longing. Evelyn was careful, clearly unwilling to cross any boundaries and name her his true fiance or future wife, but he had no reservations calling her his love and telling her he would come see her as soon as his father's health improved. Not that that provided any true timeline for his next visit.
Viscount Napier's health was as unstable as Mary's temper. In one letter he would take a turn for the better, and Evelyn would promise to come visit her soon. In the next, Evelyn would report his father caught a chill or came down with a fever in the night, and he had to stay with him. With autumn approaching, Edith had her doubts if the situation would improve or that Evelyn would be able to see her before the new year. However, in his latest letter, Evelyn set a date. Whether or not his father was better, he did not say, but regardless, Evelyn Napier was coming back to Downton in the last week of September.
The house was ecstatic at the news even as Mrs. Patmore, Mr. Carson, and Cora herself were thrown into a tizzy about how close his arrival date was. For all the preparation, one would think the King was coming rather than Edith's suitor. Questions were abound both upstairs and below about wedding dates, dresses, and romance, but Edith had another question on her mind. Should she tell him the truth about Crow?
Edith thought of it again and again as she straightened the stack of letters she had received from Evelyn over the last few weeks. Her finger looped around every pet name and traced every love confession. She read and reread his latest letter, clearly rushed and lacking much of the sweetness she had come to expect in his haste to see her. Surely, this was a man she could trust?
Edith didn't know. Not until he strode through the doors that September night, nearly late for dinner, dark hair mussed from the train and tired eyes searching for her immediately. In that instance, Edith felt that perhaps all the fuss over his arrival might have been worth it. Maybe, just maybe, she could tell him, the man who looked for her first before anything or anyone else.
"Mr. Napier," Cora greeted, causing Evelyn's attention to turn to his hostess. "We're so glad you could finally return. We were afraid you wouldn't make it."
"Were we?" Papa grumbled in what could generously be called a whisper.
"My apologies, Lady Grantham," Evelyn said. "My train was horribly delayed. I had to change there in fact."
"You made it. That's all that matters," Edith smiled, coming to stand by his side. She expected a matching expression, but Evelyn's face remained tired and pinched.
"Yes," he said softly, "I suppose it is."
"Dinner is ready, My Lord," Carson puffed from the doorway.
"Then let's go through," Papa said, taking Cora's arm and leading the procession to dinner. Sybil and Mary quickly followed, one with a smile and pleasant greeting and the other unusually quiet and watching like a cat waiting to pounce. Edith focused on Evelyn.
"I'm so glad to see you," Edith said, hesitating as she reached out for his arm. "I missed you."
"Did you?" Evelyn asked, offering his arm stiffly.
"Of course. I have been waiting. I wanted to tell you about something when you arrived."
"Oh?" Evelyn's face twisted into a pained grimace. "Yes, I thought you might. Let's do so tomorrow. I have things I need to say as well."
"Good things I hope?"
"That depends on your point of view," Evelyn said, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment as they crossed the threshold into the dining room. "I have truly missed you, Edith."
The footman brought around the serving trays as soon as they all took their places the table. The first course, technically the second since the hors d'oeuvres were served in the drawing room, was a light cucumber soup. Not a particular favorite, but an acceptable starter nonetheless.
"We are truly glad you could return, Mr Napier," Cora smiled at the man. "Or, may I call you Evelyn? We are to be family after all."
"You can address me however you like, Lady Grantham."
"Then you must address us more informally as well," Cora was still smiling, but now was glancing demandingly at her husband. "Please, call me Cora and-"
"Lord Grantham is a fine address for me," Papa said sourly.
"Robert."
"That's quite alright, Lady Cora," Evelyn soothed, eyes glancing quickly to Edith for the first time since he sat before focusing back on his host. "I am aware my position in your family is still rather… undetermined."
"Quite." Mary sipped her wine before returning to her silence, eyes flickering between Edith and Evelyn.
"That's not true," Sybil protested.
"It's only undetermined in the sense it's not yet official," Cora said. "All the more reason to marry quickly- As quickly as you are comfortable with, of course."
"Or-" Papa began.
"Robert." Cora said. Her smile was still sweet, but her eyes promised pain and suffering if her husband finished his sentence. Papa slumped back and the dining room fell into silence as the fish course was served.
"How is your father? Your last letter seemed to say he was still unwell?" Edith finally asked.
"I'm afraid he still is," Evelyn said, focused on the poached salmon. "The sickness comes and goes, and the doctors aren't as optimistic as they once were."
"Oh, I am so sorry."
"Is there anything else the doctors can do?" Sybil asked.
"My father isn't willing to do more than what has already been done. He feels as though, live or die, he'll do it on his own terms."
"I think that's how we would all prefer to go," Papa agreed.
"Let us know if we can do anything for him or you," Cora said.
"That's very kind, Lady Cora," Evelyn nodded. "My father is mainly concerned with ensuring the estate's future rather than his own. He and mother are rather determined to meet Edith soon. At Branksome."
"They want me to come to Branksome?" Edith asked, and once again Evelyn's eyes focused on her.
"I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "The invitation was something I meant to discuss with you in private, after our talk. I understand you will likely not-"
"Well that's just perfect!" Cora exclaimed. "That's what you wanted, my dear. To see Branksome and get to know your future family."
"You do?" Evelyn asked, seemingly shocked at the news.
"Well, yes," Edith said. "I would love to see your home and meet your family, Evelyn. We are to be married after all."
"It's important to do so before the wedding," Cora nodded as Thomas offered her the entree course. Evelyn's posture seemed to grow even more strained and his expression more confused. He opened his mouth to speak, but Papa's groan quickly cut him off.
"Can we please speak of anything else?"
"Has anyone read the new Crow article?" Sybil asked cheerfully. Papa's shoulders sagged in defeat as the conversation shifted from one parental stressor to another. Evelyn turned towards Sybil and the two were quickly engaged in a debate. Edith sat beside him, completely at a loss.
Edith tried her best to take part in the conversation. However, as the removes course was changed to sorbet, roast to salad, and dessert to fruit and cheese in the drawing room, she found herself constantly drifting in thought and observing her sort of fiance as he debated Sybil, exchanged pleasantries with Cora, and avoided Papa's poorly hidden barbs. The only two people he didn't seem interested in speaking to were Mary and, surprisingly, Edith herself.
Perhaps Evelyn's distance would not be notable if one did not know him, but the distance was clearly present to Edith. His motions were stiff and awkward around her. Several times he would move towards her only to hesitate and pull back. His glances were quick, questioning and heavy, but he never allowed them to linger.
Edith didn't know if the distance came from a misguided emphasis on respecting her boundaries as not quite a fiancée or if stress over his father was weighing the man down, but something was clearly wrong. Most of the family did not notice or at least had the grace to pretend they didn't, all but one.
"Poor Evelyn, all alone with Papa while we all go up," Sybil sighed as they all climbed the stairs for the evening. Cora and Sybil led the way while Edith and Mary followed. "Although, what I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall."
"Your Papa will behave himself," Cora said, the "or else" lingering in the air. "They just need some time to get better acquainted."
"I hope so," Sybil sighed. "Papa hardly seems taken by Sir Napier's charms."
"Yes," Mary replied softly so only Edith could hear as they walked behind. "Just as your fiancé doesn't seem to be taken with yours."
Edith stopped at the top stair and turned back to her older sister even as Cora and Sybil carried on to their rooms.
"Or," Mary drawled, continuing past Edith. "Is it that you are swayed by too many charms?"
"What exactly are you saying, Mary?"
Mary paused before languidly spinning back to her, a sly smile upon her lips. "Oh nothing. Just perhaps you aren't the shy little saint you pretend to be."
"What are you-"
"Next time you go to London to visit our dear aunt, perhaps we can go together," Mary said, moving away down the hall. "Maybe you can find a new fiancé after dear Evelyn leaves you behind."
"Mary!" Edith called after her, but Mary didn't look back.
Edith didn't sleep that night. The previous month's joy and calm was washed away completely in a tide of fear and uncertainty. She stared up at her peach toned ceiling counting minutes until morning with no knowledge what Evelyn wanted to speak about. She picked at her breakfast the next morning with no idea what she wanted to speak to him about either. It was with an uneasy smile she greeted him that morning, and even more uneasily did she accept his offer to stroll in the gardens.
The two passed under the stone arches of Downton's doors and the watching eyes of family and staff. As they crossed the lawn, Edith felt the pinprick of many gazes from the windows. As they walked along the path, she watched the gardener's heads tilt and turn as they watched and listened for any hint of conversation between the couple.
Edith didn't speak, and neither did Evelyn as she silently guided them away from all observers. At last, they arrived in the white border garden, a lush array of hydrangea, rose, and agapanthus, bordered by a protective stone wall. In that garden, alone, the silence broke.
"Edith-"
"Evelyn-"
"Ah-"
"Oh-"
"You first," Evelyn insisted. "Ladies first is only proper."
"I- well, I don't know if I have anything to say," Edith admitted, drawing them both over to a stone bench surrounded by delicately shaped junipers. "At least, not anything of importance."
"I would disagree. Anything you want to say has some importance to me," Evelyn paused. "Especially if it has the potential to end our engagement."
"What?" Evelyn said, eyes widening in surprise.
"I know this arrangement was never your choice," Evelyn rushed to say. "And I know you never saw me the same way I did you. I don't claim to be a catch in any way, but-"
"I- No- Don't say that. Of course you're a catch, Evelyn. My family can hardly believe I have caught you to begin with."
"But-" Evelyn said more sternly. "I do not appreciate being made a fool of. If you don't want to marry me, I understand, but I expected to at least be able to-"
"Made a fool- What are you saying? I don't understand."
"What isn't there to understand?"
"Why you think I want our engagement called off for starters!" Edith cried. "When did I- What have I ever said that gave you that impression?"
"Edith," Evelyn said. "I know you don't feel the same for me as I do for you."
"Not yet," Edith admitted. "But I could with time."
"You could," Evelyn agreed sadly. "But you don't now, and we haven't had any chance to try. That's why I so badly wanted to come see you, to invite you to Branksome." Evelyn paused then looked down at his clenched hands. "And then I recieved news you were being courted by another man."
"Another man?" Edith repeated in shock.
"I was informed in a letter a couple weeks ago, and a number of my colleagues said they saw you and another gentleman in a restaurant. They said you seemed happy, laughing and smiling."
"Restaurant?" Edith repeated. "Oh no, Evelyn, this isn't-"
"If you have found a man who makes you that happy," Evelyn pushed on, sad but determined and still not looking at her. "I can't stand in the way of that. Not when I love you. Even if that means letting you go. I just wish-"
"Evelyn," Edith said seriously, reaching out to firmly grasp his hands. "I'm not being courted by another man. I have no interest in any other men."
"The letter-"
"Damn your letter and your colleagues, and just listen to me!" Edith demanded, drawing Evelyn's dark eyes to hers. "That man they saw me with was Sir Anthony Strallan. He is kind, understanding, still in love with his late wife, and old enough to be my father. There is NOTHING between him and me but a passing friendship. Nothing."
"But you were happy with him."
"He is my friend, Evelyn! I can enjoy my time with friends without wanting to marry them."
"Then what were you doing!" Evelyn snapped, pushing away Edith's hands so he could stand and pace. "The whole reason you agreed to this engagement in the first place was to save your reputation, and then you go frolicking in London, alone, with an unmarried man?"
"Anthony is hardly a new age Casanova," Edith retorted as she rose to her feet.
"Anthony? So it's Anthony now is it?"
"I told you, we are friends. That's hardly reason to assume I'm sneaking off behind your back-"
"I didn't think you were sneaking! I know you're clever, Edith. If you were sneaking I doubt you'd do it at a restaurant in London surrounded by gossiping peers!"
"Then what did you think?"
"I thought-" Evelyn took a deep breath, his frustrated tone giving way to forced calm and sadness. "I thought you had finally found better, someone interesting, someone who swept you off your feet properly and actually made you want to get married. Not just some forced, temporary arrangement. I thought that's what you wanted to tell me, that you found someone else and were ready to break off this ruse and pursue something real."
Edith took a deep, unsteady breath. "Is that what you wanted? For me to find someone else?"
"God, no." Evelyn said, turning back to her. "If I could, I would never let you go. I love you, Edith. My proposal might not have been real to you but… it was everything to me."
"Then why don't you trust me? Trust that I would tell you if I felt that way. Trust that I mean it when I say I am interested in no one but you… that I could love you. Because I could, Evelyn. This arrangement it's some doomed romance. If I can make this work, us work, I will. I'm not trying to lead you on some goose chase, I'm trying to give us a chance."
Evelyn froze. His eyes looked her up and down, taking in Edith's expressive eyes and clenched hands, before he turned away. "I apologize. I- I shouldn't have assumed without speaking to you first."
"No, you shouldn't have," Edith said with a huff, coming to Evelyn's side and gently holding his hand. "But I am sorry too. I didn't think one luncheon would cause such a commotion."
"You are to be my wife, Edith, and I am a public figure. Everything you do will be scrutinized even without the Turk's vicious lies. You can't give them any hold or London will talk"
"So what if they do? I have done nothing to be ashamed of. I won't live my life afraid to dine with a friend for fear a few busy bodies will disapprove."
"Because everything you do will reflect onto me," Evelyn said sternly. "You will be the lady of my estate, the mother of my children, the moral center of my house. To put you into question will be, and to a degree it even is now, to question my morals and choices. No one trusts a man to manage foreign affairs if he can't manage his own wife."
"I don't need managing," Edith snapped.
"But that doesn't change public perception," Evelyn said patiently, reaching out to hold both her hands. "As a diplomat, I have to be aware of that. As my wife, so must you. You can't run off to London to have lunch with male friends or do anything that could cause a scandal. To do so would be disastrous. To both of us."
"I can be more discreet. Hide my "scandalous" meetings and tendencies."
"That isn't enough, Edith. All things come to light eventually. If you are to be my wife, you can't do those things at all. Ever. Do you understand that?"
Edith looked away, up at the spiral juniper bushes and grey stone walls. No scandal. No disruption. Nothing to rock the boat or disrupt the public's perception of an ideal wife. No Edward Crow.
"Edith? Do you understand that?" Evelyn asked again.
"Yes," Edith murmured. "I do. I'm sorry. I- I won't do anything to endanger your standing again."
"Edith, you don't need to apologize. Not for this."
"No, I should have known. I just… became too secure I suppose. Forgot what century I am living in." Edith shook her head. "Is there anything else you needed to tell me?"
"Just that I love you. I love you so terribly much, and I'm so sorry I jumped to conclusions. I just- you could do so much better than me."
"I doubt that, Evelyn."
"You could at least find a man a little less boorish and more willing to listen," Evelyn paused. "Speaking of, what was it you wished to speak of before."
"I told you, it's not important."
"And I told you it is. If it was something you wanted to say then it is important."
"I just-," Edith started and stopped then started again. "I was just going to inform you of my new friendship with Sir Anthony. Nothing more."
"So you were going to tell me the whole of it, and I just didn't listen," Evelyn grimaced. "I'm sorry. I should have known you would tell me the truth."
"Yes."
"I won't doubt you again."
"I know you won't." But you should.
Edith forced herself to look happy and content as she stared into the eyes of the man who adored her. A man who bent down and kissed her hands in the border garden while over his head she grimaced. By the time he stood again, the dark expression was replaced with a smile. Evelyn could never know the truth.